


Stability

by ValentineRevenge



Category: Black Veil Brides, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cutting, Eating Disorders, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Self-Destruction, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineRevenge/pseuds/ValentineRevenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is stability? Doing just what you're told?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kinda inspired by Anberlin's new song "Unstable".

Just what is stability? The ability to do just what you're told? Because to me, doing just what you're told is being a programmed robot, not being stable.

All society wants is robots, who conform completely, and do just what it's told. Society doesn't like anybody different. It's obvious it doesn't, by the way it treats anyone even slightly different. Like if you wear tight pants on your waist (as opposed to around your ankles), you're a faggot, but if you wear them like a thug, around your knees, and showing off your underwear, you're considered the epitome of cool. Hilarious, ain't it, this faint detail and harsh double-standard?

Truth be told, stability, mor ethan being a matter of doing what you're told, is subjective. As in two people can smoke weed, but if person A if let's say, a jock, and person B is a punk, then society will view A as not even stable, but cool too. Yet, B, is unstable in those same eyes, headed for a life of addiction, even if he;s got better grades and a clean criminal record, while A is failing his classes and has multiple criminal charges against him. Once again, this just goes to show that stability is also defined as who likes you and who doesn't.

Sad to say, that's life.

Now, I won't say I'm entirely a victim in this, but at the same time, I wasn't entirely in control. I made my bad choices, made my mistakes when I was barely even a teen, thinking no one would find out, and if they did, they wouldn't care. I doubted it would ever catch up with me, and certainly not with the strength it did.

But the truth of the matter is, by the time I figured it out, the way stability is judged, that is, it was too late. I was in over my head, and even though I'd tried turning my life around, that didn't change anything. The ball had already started rolling nearly 4 years ago, unknown to me, and I couldn't stop it even if I tried, because of the snowball effect it had on my life.

By the time I'd realized it, everyone was judging me as unstable, even though I knew if I wasn't who I was, I would be considered perfectly stable. But did they really consider me this unstable, as to be going to one of those places? I would prove to them that I wasn't unstable. Fuck, I'd prove to them that they were the crazy ones here, not me. I'd prove that they were the unstable ones who needed to be there...

The date is February 5th, 2012, and 16 year old Christian Coma has ust passed out in the back of a state mental health transport van after being injected with a sedative so he wouldn't struggle on the way there. He was going to be in a state-run hospital for the next 6 months minimum. Maybe if you asked him what he would wish for that instant, if he had one wish, he'd wish he never made the choices that he did.

But now, it's too late for that.


	2. 2

Somewhere in a hospital around 2 hours away from the van that CC is riding in, we enter into a state-run facility. It's fairly large for a mental facility, but still on the small side. It can hold maybe 50 residents when filled to capacity.

In the nurses' station, a nurse with dark skin is just getting off the phone. She looks to be in her mid 40's or so, silver hairs beginning to streak through the dark hair that's held back in a small elastic at the nape of her neck. However, the look in her eyes makes her look much older than that. "Thank you, I'll be lettin' the doctor know that." She says in a heavy Jamaican accent as she hangs up the phone.

She sighs. She doesn't particularly like having to see kids coming through here. Some of them are just bring sent here because of one mistake too many.

She left the nurses station, going to the doctors office. She knocked. There was a moment of pause before a man's voice called, "Come in."

She entered, closing the door quietly behind her. The majority of the room's smallish space was occupied by a massive desk, a monstrosity of wood and steel. Plaques, awards, and certificates covered most of the walls, and the wall behind the desk was lined with metal filing cabinets. All in all, it was a drab, depressing room. The paint color, a faded puce, was just plain disgusting. But more disgusting and drab than the room, was the man sitting behind the desk.

He was obese, and balding. Thin, oily white strands of hair were combed over the rapidly growing bald patch on the center of the top of his head, in a vain effort to make him look like he still had hair. It just made him look like a bad used car salesman. His face was pudgy, and his chin seemed to not exist, receding into his neck. His rather expensive suit just screamed "DOUCHEBAG!" Upon seeing the nurse walk into his office, he snapped, "What?" angrily.

Even after working at this hospital for the past decade or so, under this same asshole with a fancy degree, the nurse still cringed.

"The transport called and said he'd be here in a few hours." She said.

"Fine, go set up room 11 for him." the doctor spat.

"Room 11?" The nurse asked, taken aback for a moment. Room 11 was one for the high risk patients, the ones who would hurt themselves, or someone else, or try to escape. IT wasn't common policy to put new arrivals In there without a good reason.

"Yes, room 11! He's very dangerous, he's delusional, and he's a very angry person!" The doctor yelled, waving his hands around. Privately, the nurse thought that he was the delusional and angry one here, but all the same, she nodded, before leaving the room.

She took everything said in this place with a grain of salt. It seemed that this man's favorite thing to say was that EVERYONE was delusional. In whatever bizarre world he lived in, he was probably the only sane one there. But even so, she wouldn't do anything too far against orders. Besides the fact that this job paid the bills, she wasn't going to just leave these kids to deal wit h him and some of the harsher staff by themselves.

But then again, that was just another fact of life in this place. It was dull, depressing, and boring. There was no escape. Everything here was regulated beyond belief, and most stayed here around a year, if not more. Yet, it was a place that was supposed to 'cure' mentally unstable teens.


End file.
